Heilongjiang, way up in northeastern China, isn’t exactly what you’d call a wealthy province. Its GDP sits in the lower third of the country—eight or nine times smaller than the richest provinces—and most of its economy revolves around farming, with grain, rice, soybeans, and corn taking the spotlight. Outside of Harbin, the Heilongjiang province capital, there aren’t a ton of tourist attractions, which made me all the more curious: what is life really like for the people who call this quiet, lesser-known corner of China home?
Thanks to my wife being from this province, I had the perfect opportunity to do just that, starting in Harbin. If there are two things Harbin is instantly recognizable for—at least to tourists— its the Russian-influenced architecture and world-famous ice festival. Saying it gets cold in this part of China would be a serious understatement, or so I’ve learned from my wife’s childhood stories. Fortunately, we visited in May, when the weather was pleasantly mild. With only a short time in Harbin, we headed straight to Zhongyang Street (中央大街). This is the longest pedestrian street in China, and it immediately captures your attention with its brightly colored, architecturally stunning buildings. Inside the shops, shelves overflow with colorful Russian dolls, imported Russian treats, and local specialties.
We wandered down Zhongyang Street, picked out an obligatory Russian doll, and headed to Harbin Stalin Park, which stretches along the Songhua Jiang River. The park was buzzing with life beneath towering old trees. As in many places across China, elders gathered to make music and dance in groups, filling the space with a festive, communal energy. After some leisurely people-watching along the step down to the river, time caught up with us, and we reluctantly left in search of food. Visiting Zhongyang Street felt like stepping into a charming blend of history, culture, and irresistible culinary temptation all at once. The next morning, we made our way to Harbin Railway Station—another stunning example of 20th-century Art Nouveau architecture—before boarding a high-speed train to Jamisu.
Harbin:
China’s high-speed rail, once you make it through the crowded stations, is impressive. Before long we arrived in Jamisu, where family picked us up and we completed the journey to my wife’s hometown of Suibin by car. In China, getting on and off the highways means passing through toll stations that track your vehicle. Unlike in America, there isn’t much lining the roads—just fields upon fields of farmland, broken occasionally by a rest stop. There are no endless billboards, fast-food-chain exits, or farmhouses and barns scattered in the distance. Instead, farmers seem to live in compact towns spaced every few miles.
As we neared Suibin, I wasn’t sure what to expect. My wife pointed out that the bridge we were crossing over the river hadn’t existed when she was a child; back then, they relied on a ferry. It was evening when we arrived. We went straight to her mother and her mother’s husbands house, a tower on the edge of downtown where we would be staying. The next day, we would register me—a foreigner—at the local police station.
